I literally trawl the internet looking for photos of babies eating and real-life experiences of baby led weaning. If you are similarly inclined, read on. Lamb and vegetable pot-roast-stew-thing. Probably a bit too fatty but Talitha absolutely loved it. In fact I think she kept forgetting she already had stuff in her mouth but, hey, if she doesn’t mind spitting things out and putting them back in her mouth, who am I to criticise? Get family and home ed news and printables to your inbox
In my online quest to find the cheapest way to deal with the nappy situation, it became apparent that the answer was to go old-school. I’ve followed in my mother’s footsteps. Flat terry nappies it is. Encouragingly, my mother bought metres of terry towelling, cut it into 50x50cm squares and seamed the edges. She’s a legend like that. Armed with 24 of them, these are our main nappies. They also operate as burp cloths, washable wipes for particularly messy poo situations and bibs. I even lay one on the changing
The first smile is a classic landmark. The first smear of curry across your baby’s face? Not so much. The first time she shovels more chicken into a mouth full of chicken while trying to babble? It’s pure delight. Talitha started eating solid food the week before she turned six months. She had kept grabbing at what I was eating and it seemed time to let her do what she would. So, I peeled her a banana and the carnage began. I don’t even remember what she’s eaten so far.
Head to head – the ultimate show down. These are exciting times for both corners. We have nappies in the red corner and kitty litter in the blue corner. The winner, well the winner doesn’t get anything at all apart from slightly less frowns and sighs!
Modern reasoning would probably have asked why we were choosing now to have a child and whether it was “accidental”, especially with all these scaremongering news reports of how much it costs to raise the little buggers.
At thirty-three weeks pregnant, the countdown has begun. Laurence asked me yesterday if we’re in the third trimester yet. I pray he was joking. At any rate, I’m determined to make the most of these next seven (or five or nine or God alone knows how many) weeks.